Kings and Rings and other Things
by Mercury Gray
Summary: Crossover It's seventh year, and once more, there's a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher in town. But what's she hiding up her sleeves? And what's more, whose side is she on? Given up on, do not expect updates.
1. Chapter 1

Soo…in keeping with my wild work ethic…

_boos from crowd_

I've decided to let you in on one of my babies-my Harry Potter project. I know it's choppy. I know it's wildly crossover, though you wouldn't know it yet. But you're smart people- make connections, make inferences, connect things, think outside the standard HP box.

Meet the Harry Potter fic. Don't own it, never will, as well as all affiliated crossover parties. And I'm not British, though I am an anglophile. I love the English. So bear with, please, for your sake and mine.

* * *

"So, what d'you reckon the teachers gonna be like this year? Maybe he'll stick around for more than one year." Ron asked his two comrades as they trekked through the corridors after lunch.

"Like that's going to happen. Anyway, I heard the new professor's a woman." Hermione remarked.

"Let's hope to god she's not like Umbridge." Harry cited the previous fifth year's professor, a witch in the employment of the Ministry who had come to Hogwarts with the express goal of putting Albus Dumbledore out of the position of head master. Unfortunately for her, it had not worked, and Cornelius Fudge had been left with a mess at the Ministry to prove that Voldemort was indeed back.

"She didn't make any long winded speech at the feast, that's a good start." Ron pointed out.

"She wasn't even at the feast." Hermione made this sound as though the observer would have had to be an idiot not to notice.

"Good point." Ron sounded crestfallen at his slip-up. When they finally did get to the classroom, and into their seats, the teacher sitting at the desk at the front of the room both shocked and surprised them.

The female equivalent of Lucius Malfoy sat behind the polished and uncluttered desk, peering intently at her class over the slim sheaf of papers she was holding. Whenever someone sat down, her eyes flickered from the paper to the student's face, as if she was trying to read her students like a book. Her silver blonde hair hung loosely around her face, a gilt frame of fine thread.

However, when she at last put her papers down and stood up, they could see that her eyes, unlike Lucius and Draco's steely grays, were a vibrant, energetic blue. Harry was reminded of Mad Eye Moody's magical eye. But her eyes did not swivel jumpily in their sockets, as though they were afraid of something, but remained calmly surveying her class. Somewhere in a corridor, a magically magnified bell rang, signaling the start of class. The teacher looked at her class list again, then at the rows of serried desks in classroom twenty. The entire room was silent, staring at this woman who was going to be teaching them.

"Tut, tut, some of your classmates appear to be late." She sounded amused and at the same time, enraged. Ron leaned over to whisper to Harry.

"I'd be willing to bet a lot of money its Malfoy. First day's not even out yet and he's already breaking rules."

"Mmm." Harry wasn't surprised. Maybe this woman was related to Malfoy. But she didn't seem the type who would let him slip past with an infraction like that, lowly as it was. The door creaked, and all the faces turned from the teacher to the door. It opened, admitting Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They seemed extraordinarily pleased with themselves. The woman got up from behind her desk, and silently strode across the room. The entire class sat transfixed, unwilling to make a sound, wondering what the teacher would do.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Her voice boomed across the silent room. Malfoy, who had his back turned, stiffened at the sound of her voice, his face filled with fear.

"Yes, Aunt Gabe?" His voice shook, as he turned around to face the woman.

"How dare you think you could get away with tardiness in my class! Your father may be my favorite brother, but you are by no means my favorite nephew. When in this class, you will address me with all proper respect as _Professor_ Malfoy. Detention for your lack of deference and ability to watch a clock properly. And, if it happens again, your father shall be informed. Now, go to your seats." Her rigid, manicured finger pointed to the top row. Draco's face, which was already very panic stricken, turned a little more so. He managed a nod, and hastened up the steps to the topmost row of seats, sliding in amidst whispers from the Slytherins. The woman turned to the class.

"As Draco has been kind enough to inform you, I am indeed his aunt. He has also demonstrated for me one of the rules of this classroom, and that is if you are late, you will be duly punished. As well as doing these things, he has also shown you that I do not choose favorites. Even from among my own kin." She paused to let this sink in, and continued with her opening remarks.

"I am Gabrielin Malfoy, and I will be your Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. I do not like having to lecture, and I will make you read sections from the textbook during class only as punishment. However, there will be days when you will have to read, and I will have to stand here, talk, and have you take notes. It cannot be avoided. But for the most part, this should be a very fun class for those among you who do your work, and participate actively in class. Before we begin, I would you to look at the papers in front of you." With a snap of her fingers, papers appeared in front of everyone.

"Look over this list of spells and hexes. Mark the appropriate column if you have a) heard of the spell, b) Know what it does, or c) can perform the spell. Any questions?"

No hands were raised, so she waved them to their work. Harry directed his attentions to the sheet of paper. The spells listed on the front were easy enough, but on the back they started to get difficult. Harry remembered Hermione mentioning them all at one time or another. He looked at his deskmates. Ron's face was screwed up in concentration, his quill halfway in his mouth. Hermione had finished, and was reading the textbook. Harry set down his quill, and his paper whisked itself to a tidy stack on Prof. Malfoy's desk.

Ron took on last look at the paper, made a few more marks, them set his quill down. The parchment flew to the teacher's desk, settling on the pile with a slight crumple. Several more papers flew to the stack, and when Prof. Malfoy had gotten all of them back, she straightened the pile and flipped through them, seemly satisfied with what she saw.

"Very well then. Your only assignment for this class will be to begin reading your textbook, and I will quiz you tomorrow on the first chapter, so I would not skive off, if I were you. You may begin now, if you like, as you still have ten minutes left of class."

Harry picked up the large, brown book in front of him and started to read. There had been many defense against the dark arts textbooks he had not liked in the past, but the author, Morrigan Kier, made more sense than most textbook authors are bound to do, presenting the information in, well… an informative and interesting manner. He flipped to the back of the book, holding a finger in the spot where he had stopped reading, to read what the author's background was, not really expecting to find one. Normally not the thing one normally finds in a textbook, but it was there, nonetheless. Harry read it.

"Morrigan Kier is a part of one of the most foremost wizarding families of Scotland, and is actually a descendant of the Noble Wizarding house of Black. He enjoys writing books for student's usage, including "A history of Wizard Hate" one of the foremost collections on the behavior of Muggles, and " Wizarding Psychology; A study of Dark Wizards." In his spare time, Morrigan enjoys playing with his six year old daughter, Venus, and hunting on his estate, Loch Guinness, with his wife of thirteen years, Pyralis. He is a devoted member of the Dark Force Defense League, the International Confederation of Wizards, and The Black Raven Writing Club."

Harry thought about this for a moment. Morrigan must not be on the Black family tree at Grimmuald place, either, if he had written these books. And to be a member of the Dark force Defense League? He was certainly not on there. Sirus would have told him all about it, if Sirus…

He looked up to see the professor staring at him intently. It was not a cold, unnerving stare, like Snape's, but more of a pensive one, as if she were trying to decipher some ancient riddle. Harry caught her gaze, and then looked quickly away; his scar had hurt when he looked in her eyes. Harry looked at the bell, silently willing it to ring so he could get on to potions, or what ever it was he had next. All he wanted was to get out of Professor Malfoy's classroom.

--

Ron put it very adequately on the way to transfiguration. "That woman gives me the creeps. And a Malfoy to boot! She can only spell trouble."

Harry quite violently agreed.

* * *

As I said, bear with…all things come more to light with time. You'll see my motives for Morrigan eventually.

So. What do you think of Lucius' sister?


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own any canonical characters mentioned herein. Gabrielin Malfoy is of my own creation, and permiss must be requested before borrowing her.

I intend to carry this out as a series of looks at merely the DADA Classes. Any further inquiry as to what happens between these scenes will be answered when the occasion calls.

Thanks for the review, Felf!

* * *

"Good morning, class." There were scattered and sleepy 'good morning's from the flock of students. Professor got up to look at the class and folded her arms across her long green robes good-naturedly.

"My, My, aren't we a talkative bunch today. Now, I trust you have all read the chapter?" Again, a general murmured assent from the gathered students. "Can anyone of you with the exception of Miss Granger tell me what it is about?" Hermione, whose hand had shot up as soon as the question was asked, dejectedly lowered her hand. The professor looked up at her from the desk.

"I am sorry, Miss Granger, but the rest of your classmates must prove their mettle. Now, Miss Patil?" Pavarti looked up from the notebook she was scribbling in.

"Umm…well, ma'am, the text said…the text said that there are different mediums for magic besides the wand, and that the book would cover several of the many hundreds."

"Very good, Miss Patil. There are many mediums for magic…Mr. Finnigan, can you tell the class what a medium is?"

"A method? Ma'am." Seamus added, not sounding sure of himself.

"Not quite, but close enough. The dictionary definition, if you will, Miss Granger, since I know you're about to explode with knowledge." She turned, hawk-like, to look at Hermione, who nearly quailed at the ice blue eyes.

"A Medium…an intervening thing through which a force acts or an effect is produced."

"Excellent, Miss Granger. An intervening thing through which a force acts or an effect is produced…May I have an example?" Several hands shot up, one of which was Neville's.

"Mr. Longbottom! I did not think I would have the pleasure of an answer. Proceed."

"A…staff, ma'am?" Neville's voice was shy and small.

"Yes, a staff, like a wand, may be used to channel magic. There may be any of several magical substances at its core that help magnify the magic ability of its carrier. Any others? Miss Parkinson." Pansy, sitting in the back with Draco, could hardly be heard when she gave her answer.

"I'm sorry, you'll have to speak up, Miss Parkinson. I believe the rest of the class is having trouble hearing you."

"A garment, Ma'am?"

"Yes, magic can be woven or induced into clothes. No other answers? Very well then. We have clothes and staffs. Metallurgy of any sort, be it jewelry or weaponry, may also be magical. Have any of you ever been abused by a library book?" There were several hands and giggles. "You may laugh, but books may also be a medium for magic. Have you considered- Miss Granger, have you thought of one I haven't mentioned?"

"It's possible to have no medium at all, right?"

"Bravo, Miss Granger. It is possible to spell cast without the help of any magical artifacts. It is also possible to induce the effects of spells through these artifacts. Mr. Weasley, have you got an example? I know your father's work thoroughly well-surely he must have told you something of the sort?"

"Well, there was this atlas that took you to whatever map you were looking at. Some old lady went in a bookshop looking for information on the Great Pyramids and ended up on top of the Sphinx." Loud guffawing filled the room, and Ron blushed apologetically, shrugging his shoulders.

"VERY good, Mr. Weasley-Port keys! Who here has used a Port key?" Almost everyone's hand was raised.

"Another example of a spell used in attachment with an object. So, we've made a list. Now I have some examples." She went behind her desk and pulled out a long thing object wrapped in velvet cloth. Setting it down on her desk, she carefully unwrapped it and held one of the objects up to see.

It was a knurled piece of wood in the shape of a walking stick. One end was particularly knobby. The Professor withdrew from her desk a small blue bag and set it on the top, unwrapping the careful folds to reveal a crystal, which she fitted into the top of the knobby end of the staff.

"I am going to turn the lights down and show you one of the things this particular staff does." With a flick of her hands, the shades flew down and the lamps dimmed. With two hard taps of the staff on the floor, the crystal flared to life, and in the unearthly glow the Professor's face was framed, her golden hair almost white.

"An old friend of mine gave this to me. It was his for quite a while, and served him well before wands had a place in the magical world." She clapped her hands again, and the shades rolled up with their usual clatter, flooding everyone's eyes with light. Hermione raised her hand.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"In History of Magic," there were groans from the class, hurriedly silenced by Professor Malfoy, who was looking intently at Hermione.

"In history of magic," Hermione began again despite the protests, "Professor Binns told us that wizards have used wands since the Dark Ages."

"Well then, my friend has obviously been around quite a while, hasn't he now?" She smiled and raised her eyebrows, as if daring Hermione to compute exactly how old her friend was, and then turned back to her desk to hold up another staff, made of spiked metal and apparently broken in two. Harry got nauseous just looking at it; something didn't feel right about this one. Then the world went black.

When the room spun back into focus, Ron and the professor were both staring down at him.

"Harry, man, are you all right?" Ron's eyes were wide.

"Fine, yeah, I'm fine."

"Perhaps it is too early for that, Mr. Potter. I misjudged your strength. This staff-" Professor Malfoy got up to speak to the class, pointing to her desk, " was used by a dark wizard long ago. Apparently the taint has not left it yet. Shadow lies still within. Mr. Weasley, take Mr. Potter to the Kitchens and get him some chocolate." She whisked back up to her desk, and began wrapping the staffs up again, taking the crystal from the end of the wooden one and wrapping it in it's velvet.

"Homework- research magical substances read chapter two and be prepared to discuss." The Professor said, nearly wearily as she packed her things. Harry gathered up his things and slung his bag over his shoulder, refusing to lean on Ron as they made their way to the kitchens.

"Harry, I got to hand it to you, you get into more scrapes for the sake of Defense against the Dark Arts class than anything else."

"Yeah, well, seeing as the Dark Arts love me so much, I can imagine why."

"Why did you pass out, anyway?"

Harry felt a little queasy; he didn't really know what had made him black out. "I…I…I don't know. It just felt so evil I kind of…lost it."

Ron thought about this as Harry tickled the pear in the painting and it swung open.

"Hello, Harry Potter sir! How is you today, sir? And Weezy, sir?" Te squeaky voice of Dobby the house elf welcomed them to the kitchen.

"We're great, Dobby, thanks. But Professor Mal-" He stopped himself, remembering something.

"Professor Malfoy is what, Harry Potter?" Dobby looked up at him with his luminous eyes.

"Professor Malfoy sent us down here for some chocolate for Harry. He passed out-oof!" Harry elbowed Ron in the side and he shut up. Harry didn't want Dobby to know he'd passed out. Dobby nodded, smiling, and toddled off to get chocolate.

"Ron, you fool! Dobby probably knows Professor Malfoy! He used to be their house elf!"

Ron processed this. "Sorry. He asked, and I answered."

Dobby came back, balancing a tray as large as he was on his spindle-like arms. On it was an assortment of chocolates and a mug of cocoa. Harry picked up the mug and sipped the warm liquid dutifully under the eyes of Ron.

"Harry Potter was worried that Dobby would not like Professor Malfoy?"

Harry stopped drinking cocoa and looked over his mug. "What makes you think that?"

"Harry Potter is not wishing to say mistress's name. Harry Potter is afraid Dobby would hurt himself?"

"Well, I didn't know what you'd…ah…do."

"Dobby is liking Gabrielin, sir. Gabrielin is being nice to poor Dobby when Lucius hurts Dobby when Gabrielin and Lucius was small, sir. Gabrielin is being very nice to all the house elves, sir, and we is always doing what she likes, sirs. She is not calling us house elves, though sir-she is calling us by our names always." Dobby smiled at the memory, his eyes going a bit bleary. "Now Harry Potter and Weezy will be late for class, sirs." Dobby ushered them out the door, and waved enthusiastically when they climbed through the porthole.

"Well, I still say she gives me the creeps. And we've got Potions next! Crap, Snape's going to have our hides." Running as fast as the bag at his side would permit, the two of them arrived huffing and puffing at the door to the dungeons.

The class turned as one entity when the door banged open and two breathless and red faced Griffindors entered.

"Messrs. Potter and Weasley. How nice of you to join us. If you do not mind taking your seats?" Ron and Harry dropped into two seats next to Hermione, who scowled at them. Snape walked sinisterly over to where they were sitting to stare at them, his face cold and paler then ever.

"Would Potter and Weasley like to explain why, exactly, they are late?"

"I will take responsibility, Severus." Snape looked up to the door, and again the class turned to see Professor Malfoy standing in the door, her face smiling no longer, but cool and poised, her lips in a thin line. She had put a black work robe over her green robe with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and her hair, which had been loose earlier, was now tied back in a knot at the back of her head. Snape stiffened and rose.

"Professor. What a …pleasant surprise. May I inquire as to the occasion?" His voice was strained, like he was ill in the presence of the professor.

"I ask that you give neither Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley a detention. I sent them on an errand."

"They shall be excused." Professor Snape said quickly, as if he had never given thought to the idea of punishing them.

"Thank you, Severus. I also came to ask for an ounce of bitter tansy and half an ounce of dried dragon's blood. I'm mixing a ward potion for one of my artifacts- it appears to be under dark influence."

Snape's eyes grew wide. "The…stone?"

"Oh, no, the staff. The rest are perfectly fine, thank you. The stone is doing well, although it may need a bath in the Tersum Aquilus spirits; I will, perhaps, ask for your assistance after dinner." Snape nodded, and went to fetch the ingredients she had asked for.

"Harry, how was Dobby?" Hermione looked at Harry anxiously.

"Oh, he's fine. Seems to like Professor Malfoy, despite former ownership." He recounted what Dobby had told them in the kitchens in a hushed voice.

"Well, she seems like the type to not mistreat house elves." Hermione said approvingly, beginning to chop the beetle wings they were going to need for today's potion.

"She still gives me the creeps. Chummy with Snape- something's funny around here." Ron mumbled conspiratorially, turning to his own beetle wings.

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Reviews? Please? I just want to know what you think! 


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews, they were wonderful…

Chapter three. Don't own canon characters, I think you know who those are.

* * *

Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he looked at the new notice on the board in the Griffindor common room. 

"Quidditch tryouts-September 5th, Friday at six o clock-

Positions open-two beaters, two chasers.

Please bring your own Broom and BE PROMPT!"

The signature at the bottom was clearly Alicia Spinnet's-Angelina had graduated last year, along with Katie Bell, and the last of the chasers of the team throughout his years here had taken up the Captaincy. Next to Harry, and Ron, if he really counted, she was the senior most returning team member. Ron came up behind, adjusting his tie and running a hand through his hair. He glanced at the notice with a carefree glance.

"Reckon there's any untapped Quidditch talent in Griffindor house this year who'll be willing to try out for the team?" Ron asked as they went down to breakfast.

"Well, we've got some brothers and sisters from Quidditch playing families…Ginny might go out for Chaser, y'know." Harry looked at Ron for his reaction, but if there was one, his red haired friend hid it well.

"It'll be good to have some new blood on the team, though."

"Good morning, Harry, Ron." Both boys turned to see Professor Malfoy standing behind them.

"Good morning, Professor."

"Couldn't help but over hear about the Quidditch tryouts. Mind if I drop by Friday evening-I've heard so many things about your flying talents; I'd like to see for myself." Ron nodded mutely, and Harry managed a small smile.

"Certainly, Professor. Be glad to have you there. Maybe you can show us a few tricks yourself." Alicia put in from down the table, flicking a cinnamon hair out of her face. The Professor smiled and went up to the staff table to finish her breakfast. Harry looked at the Captain.

"What d'you mean, show us some tricks? I didn't know Professor Malfoy played Quidditch."

"Harry, Gabrielin Malfoy lead the Slytherin team to victory every one of her playing years here. She was one of the best Chasers that team's ever seen. She's got her name over all sorts of Quidditch Awards in the Trophy room-She's practically a legend, and she could have played for her pick of clubs if she hadn't decided to go finish her magical studies at the University in Ireland. Now, you did read about being prompt, right, you two?" she asked, her face critical.

The two boys nodded, finished attacking their eggs, and went to retrieve books for Defense against the Dark Arts.

* * *

"So, is everyone looking forward to Quidditch season starting?" Professor Gabrielin asked pleasantly as her class took their seats. There were some whoops from the Slytherins, a few cheerful smiles from the avid Griffindor fans in the group. "Has everyone done the reading? Right then, on to better business. Zambini, can you tell me the three elements traditionally used for wand cores. Speak up please, there is an echo in here." 

" Dragon Heartstring, Unicorn hair, and Phoenix tailfeather, ma'am." Blaise said, standing as though to recite. Professor Gabrielin nodded, and he sat down.

"Those are the traditional wand cores-each has it's own mystic properties and when properly coupled with the right wood can have different effects. Now, can anyone tell me some untraditional core substances. No need to raise hands, just shout out.

"Unicorn Tail hair!"

"Gorgon blood!"

"Veela Hair!" Harry chimed in. Professor held up a hand, and turned her gaze to Harry.

"Excellent, Mr. Potter. May I ask where you learned of the use of 'being' hair in a wand?" She asked, intently gazing at him. Harry swallowed.

"One…of the participants at the Triwizard Tournement-Fleur Delacour…she had a veela hair in her wand; one of her grandmother's, I believe."

Professor Malfoy nodded, the answer satisfactory with her quizzing, and drew forth from her own pocket a rather long wand made of silvery gray wood. "This is my wand-It was fashioned by a great craftsman within my relations especially for me on the day of my birth. It was made from a type of tree native to where my mother grew up, now extinct in most former forests. Inside is contained one Elf hair."

Hermione raised a hand.

"Professor, do you mean a house elf? Because as far as I've noted, they have no hair to speak of."

"No, Miss Granger. An entirely different breed of Elf. But them we will save for another discussion. Now, what types of wood are typically used in wands?"

By the end of the period, the chalkboard, which had been magically taking down all suggestions offered by the class, was full. Professor Malfoy glanced at the clock on the wall.

"For homework, I would like you to compose three paragraphs on the wand substance of your choice, outlining in your paragraphs the magical properties of the substance, where typically the substance can be found and used, and what uses the substance has in other fields, specifically potion making. Professor Snape has told me he has several books at his disposal that might be useful to any of you. To be handed in next time I see you, which shall be next Monday. And good luck to all of you trying out on Friday, since I will not be seeing you the rest of the week."

Hermione stayed behind to chat with the Professor over possible topics for her paper-

"And the possibility of extra credit too, no doubt. She'll probably be asking now what's the rarest thing in the books and where she can find information on it. And when the three paragraphs are done they'll each get their own roll, no doubt. You realize that as we get older, Hermione's essays get longer?" Ron said glumly as they made their way to Potions. Harry could only nod.

At lunch, Hermione was brimming with idealism for her paragraphs, having just gotten back from the library, her arms full of books, all bound in half rotten leather looking several millennia old.

"Madam Pince said no one's checked these out in ages! And they're really interesting too… This one especially-it was written by a man and his nephew! It's all about-"

But the rest of the table never heard what it was about, because Hermione was cut of from brandishing the red leather covered volume by Ron, his voice stretching annoyed, his fork poised inches from his pork roast, quivering with indignation.

"Hermione, can you let us eat in peace! This is the one time of the day I don't have to hear about homework, essays, and the way I screwed up so badly in potions today that far from producing a sleeping potion, I ended up with a stimulant so powerful you wouldn't need to sleep for a week! Please, don't ruin lunch-this pork is good." Ron gave her a patronizing, puppy dog look that shut Hermione up quickly. She finished the remnants of the mashed potatoes on her plate and rushed off, toting her pile of books back to the Griffindor common room for the remainder of lunch.

"Ron, if you're not careful, you're going to wind up married. You two bicker like an old couple." Harry noted, attacking his pork roast. A grunt in lieu of a reply from Ron, and the table went back to sullen silence.

* * *

Yeah, I'm psychic. We all know it. _Sure… _

Reviews for the poor writer? passes hat>


	4. Chapter 4

It's short. It's funny. It's really…weird.

It's chapter four, coming soon (as in NOW) to a computer screen near you!

(oh, yeah, and we forgot to mention the author doesn't own any of the canon characters- sorry about that.)

Quidditch tryouts approached faster than Harry had expected, and September 5th was a brilliant day, with a few lazy wisps of cloud and no chance of rain (or detentions, thought Harry with a grim smile) in sight.

Alicia was in the middle of talking to the remnants of last year's team and this years hopefuls when she looked up from the huddle and called across the field.

"Good Evening, Professor!" The huddle's heads swiveled to look at whoever was coming towards them; it was Professor Malfoy.

Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a pair of vintage Quidditch robes-no doubt from her own playing days. In her hand was a broom like Harry had never seen before.

"I thought I would come and watch. And maybe fly a little myself, after you are all done, of course." She said with a winning smile

"Of course, professor! Please, sit." Alicia conjured up several armchairs, looking out of place in the pitch, and the Professor sat down. Alicia flipped through the notes on the clipboard, and began addressing the small crowd again.

--

After two hours of running drills and then playing a fraction of a game, Alicia called down the aspiring Griffindors, thanked them for trying out, and assured them she'd have results posted by tomorrow. After they began trudging back to their dorms Alicia called the remaining team members in for a meeting.

"So, any suggestions, remarks, comments?" Alicia asked.

"Nora Baines has a good arm on her-I know she tried for chaser, but the way she throws the ball…" Ginny put in. Professor Malfoy nodded sagely.

"So does Cadon Gorbis-Put them both down for beaters. They had confidence, strength, and they seem to know each other well enough." The blonde counseled; Alicia immediately wrote down their names.

"So… keeper, seeker, beaters, and two chasers…that leaves one spot left…any of you notice anyone?"

"Erm…Alan What's-his-name….Bogsgarden? He seemed to play well with the rest of the team." Ron said, stifling a yawn.

"But he didn't play extraordinarily well." Alicia pointed out.

"Perhaps you could pick two for the spot, and one can be an alternate, in case things don't work out?" Gabrielin suggested. Alicia lit up, and she scribbled it down on her clipboard.

"Well then, that's it. I'll be putting it up tomorrow. You can go now, if you like." Alicia said, gathering up her things after a final note on her clip board.

"If it's all the same to you, Alicia, we were hoping we could stick around for a little game…" Ginny looked at the Professor. "Would you care to join us, Professor?"

Gabrielin smiled. "I'd be honored, Miss Weasley." She grabbed the broomstick at her side and mounted up.

"Say, Professor, what model broom is that?" Ron called from his keeper post with curiosity.

"It's custom built, Mr. Weasley." Gabrielin said with a smile. "Quicksilver infused ashwood handle and aerodynamically honed tail twigs. The combination of mercury and the warding runes in the handle makes for a good finish and an especially fast broom. There's a company up in Scotland that makes them to suit, if you're interested." She offered diplomatically. Ron's face fell, and he shook his head.

"No, thanks, Professor." He said sullenly, looking back at the tarnished handle of his Cleansweep.

The entire team was given a brushing of the speed of Gabrielin's broom, and her Quidditch skills-she flew like nothing Harry had ever seen before, as if she were one with her broom, part bird and part dragon, playing with a fiery fury. On one amazing occasion, the professor had actually jumped off her broom to catch the speeding quaffle, flipped over and swung back on one handed with amazing agility. Ron had been so dumbstruck he'd missed blocking the inevitable goal, and stared after the Defense professor with a newfound respect.

"And then did you see the perfect reverse pass she got on me?" Ron said exuberantly, the red faced Griffindors heading back to the dormitories after bidding the professor goodnight and leaving her on the pitch. For all the goals he'd let her score, Ron seemed amazingly happy.

"Erm…Ron? You do know she scored about a dozen times on you, right?" Harry asked, wondering if Ron had gotten hit in the head with a bludger and had not noticed.

Ron nodded enthusiastically. "But she's good, Harry! I can't believe I actually played a game with Gabrielin Malfoy!" he began skipping off down the hallway, and Harry stared after his best friend. Seriously considering the possibility of that bludger, Harry shook his head and trudged after him.

I hereby give you permission to shoot me first for such a bad chapter and ask questions later.


	5. Chapter 5

The fall term went smoothly enough- Snape was vindictive, Professor Malfoy kept piling on the work, like all Harry's other teachers, and life at Hogwarts continued.

Until Harry was given a detention for the most innocent of acts- asking a question.

It had been a perfectly reasonable question- they had been reviewing potions used to keep dark artifacts at bay, and Harry had asked how something could become so tainted no magic would repel it. Professor Malfoy's eyes turned sharp, and her face hardened. "Detention, Mr. Potter. This is Defense against the Dark Arts, not the other way around."

"I think it was a _little_ unfair of her." Hermione admitted, shuffling her papers as they moved to Transfiguration.

"A little? Hermione, you ask questions like that all the time! You never get detention!" Ron was in a rage. "Harry, you should complain."

Harry shrugged it off. "It's just detention. I'm sure she's got a personal reason for it." He had seen the look on her face- while it had been venomous, there was a certain…odd, sad tint to her anger, and it had thrown him off entirely.

When Harry walked into her classroom after dinner, it seemed huge; the lights weren't on, there was no one there. Just Professor Malfoy, grading papers. She looked up, her eyes stern.

"Mr. Potter- come this way." She said, her voice like a whip, lashing through the silence.

She all of dragged him down the hallway, walking at a brisk pace, her robes billowing in an oddly Snapeish way behind her. It wasn't until they got to the gargoyle behind which Harry knew Dumbledore's office was located did Harry realize that this wasn't going to be a detention he'd forget.

"Harry." Dumbledore said kindly, gesturing to a chair. "Have a seat. Oh, don't worry; you're not in any trouble. Order business, you know."

Harry sat up a little straighter. "Order business?" he asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "Gabrielin, if you would be so kind."

Harry had to interrupt. "Wait- You're part of the order?"

Gabrielin laughed. "Yes, Harry- one can be a Malfoy and still turn out good. My roots go much deeper than those of my brother and his family. I am the white sheep of the malfoys, as it were." She gave a little laugh. " That brings me to this Order business. We've reason to suspect there's someone inside this school feeding information to Voldemort. We know he's planning an attack soon, and we want this information to stop. I believe it is my nephew." She said, letting Harry digest this.

"You want me to ask him about it?" Harry asked. Gabrielin nodded. "You do know Draco and I aren't exactly mates, right?" Harry said, ignoring the fact that she'd mentioned something about attacking the school.

"You don't have to be, Harry. I have an alternative to getting friendly with my nephew." She took a deep breath. "When I was younger, my parents, fearing I would somehow contaminate the prestigious Malfoy blood, arranged a marriage with another wizarding family fearing the same thing. We were the same age, more or less, we'd both made some sloppy decisions when it came to dealing with our families- it was, in the least sense of the term, a perfect match.

It lasted under a year, and after that we broke up- but in that time I'd managed to conceive a child. We were young, we hadn't planned well; my parents could have cared less, they knew who the father was, and as long as he wasn't Mudblood, they didn't care. My…son, " she said the word as if it pained her, "Would be Draco's age now. They've spoken a few times, at family events and such, but he doesn't know much about his cousin- if he knew about the father, he'd scream. I want you, Harry, to pretend to be Algernon over winter break. I want you to masquerade as my son, and get close into my nephew's confidences to see if he really is turning this castle over to the enemy."

Professor Malfoy's eyes seemed to plead with him. Harry took a deep breath.

"Would be Draco's age?" Harry asked quietly.

The Professor's voice caught in her throat, and Harry knew he was about to see her cry. Professor Dumbledore held out a handkerchief, but she waved it away, procuring her own from a pocket and blowing her nose, hard. "He passed away about a year ago. After trying some dark…magics."

Now Harry knew why she had blown up at him earlier that morning. "How am I going to stay as…" He fumbled with the name. "Algernon?"

Dumbledore smiled, and withdrew from his pocket a small vial. "A variant on the Polyjuice potion, which, I believe, you are familiar with?" he asked with a wink.

Harry nodded and took the vial, looking at it apprehensively.

"This is a shorter dose. Only a few minutes. The full strength potion lasts nearly a week. You won't have to worry about changing back." Dumbledore reassured him.

Harry swallowed his fear and uncorked the bottle. It smelled just as he remembered- rotten socks and a lot of other nasty bits. He stopped. "Am I going to be doing this alone? I don't' know if I can take"

"An entire vacation with my nephew? Understandable. No, Ron and Hermione are coming, too. Each of you has your part to play. But we cannot call all of you down at once- it raises suspicions." Gabrielin assured him. Harry nodded, still trepidated- the smell of the potion was making him nauseous. With a single gulp, he swallowed the potion.

He took his glasses off, feeling them press a little on his face. His nose was changing shape, his fingers were becoming longer, he was getting taller, his hair seemed to be changing direction in his scalp, becoming more manageable, flatter, and the contours of his face were changing direction with the same bubbly wax feeling as before.

When Gabrielin handed him the mirror, he knew exactly who the father was she was talking about. Because he looked almost exactly like…

* * *

CLIFFHANGER! guesses, anyone? _(passes hat around)_


	6. Chapter 6

Dang, I'm evil. Well, here it is. Christmas/ Hanukkah/ Festivus present for y'all.

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Heh…I'm really evil.

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"SNAPE!" Ron roared to an empty boys dormitory. Harry quieted him immediately, but Ron was still fuming. "Snape? Of all the people Prof. Malfoy choses to sleep with, that has to be the wor-" 

"Come on, Ron, what Professor Malfoy chooses to do with her free time is none of our business. And while I do think Professor Snape was not the wisest of choices, it was not entirely her choice, either." Hermione added rationally. "Perhaps he was nicer when he was younger."

"Yeah, and maybe owls don't fly." Ron added sarcastically. "Exactly what parts are we playing in this madcap scheme, anyway?"

"She didn't say." Harry said, shrugging. Hermione shook her head.

"Well, she'll tell us when she wants to. Probably not for another several days."

An owl's beak rapping at the window silenced the conversation, and Harry got up to let the bird in.

"Hermione, it's for you." He untied the letter and the bird flew off. "Evidently no reply requested."

Hermione slit open the envelope with her finger and read the note quickly. "Professor Malfoy wants to talk with me about my paper." She read, her face a mask of confusion.

"Mighty short days, Herm." Ron said sarcastically, grabbing his bag to go do homework in the common room.

Ron was not spared a visit to Professor Malfoy's office- he got called down after dinner, the professor citing something about his grades. Hermione refused to talk about what she was doing, and Ron seemed sullen after getting his news.

"Hermione's older brother. Harry, I-" Ron looked down at his feet. "I can't do this! Act like her brother for an entire two weeks! You know how much I like her!"

Harry stopped, struggling to keep a straight face. "No, Ron, actually, I don't. This is the first I've heard of it." He smiled at his friend, who proceeded to tackle him.

"You great oaf, you've known all along!" Ron accused. Harry, already laughing so hard he couldn't breathe, could only nod.

"You're only…about…as obvious…as…" But Harry couldn't come up with a good enough analogy, and just left it there.

"Anteros Augustus Kier- what kind of a name is that?" Ron asked, a depressed note in his voice. Harry sat up.

"Kier?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. So?"

But Harry was already rifling through his bag for the Defense against the Dark Arts textbook.

"Kier! I knew I'd heard the name somewhere- you're his son!" he pointed to the picture of Morrigan in the back of the textbook, nodding sagely in his frame and looking very wise indeed. Ron sighed.

* * *

Harry spent the last three weeks before vacation studying Algernon. He poured over photo albums, laughing at pictures of a prepubescent Draco and Algernon in swimming trunks next to the pool, or of various family members at family get-togethers. There was Gabrielin, and Lucius in quite a few, laughing with his sister, Narcissa pouting gloomily off to the side, hating not to be the supreme object of her husband's attention. There were a few pictures, though, of another young man who was also blonde and looked like Gabrielin, but she never told Harry who he was. 

He was tutored on table manners, which fork to eat with first (a facet of his education the Dursleys had never bothered with, since it was assumed nice company for which more than one fork was set would never know Harry existed) he learned to dance, a rather painful task taken up by the combined efforts of Professor McGonagall, Mrs. Weasley, and Fleur, when she could get off of work to come to the school. Harry could see the tension between Mrs. Weasley and her first daughter in law was lessening, but it was still there in spades. In short, by the time winter break started, Harry was fit for the society pages.

"But are the society pages fit for you?" Ron asked irately, still nursing a hurt ego that Harry got to dance with Fleur and he didn't, never mind that the aforementioned was married to his brother.

"Ron, I-" Harry started his defense, but Ron threw a pillow at him and walked out. Harry's shoulders sagged. What was it that was turning all his friends away from him?

"He's sick of being in your shadow, that's all." Hermione said, helping Harry pack his trunk the next day. "Come on, no time for moping- you've got to meet Professor Malfoy's carriage."

"The Escape" as it was now being termed, was part of the elaborate hoax designed to make Draco think Algernon was still alive- alive enough, in fact, to have gotten off school early to come and fetch his mother and cousin from Hogwarts.

Harry would slip out into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom ("It's amazing how often we go in there" Ron remarked) take his Polyjuice potion, slip his invisibility cloak over his head, get out the front door, and make a mad dash for the carriage to meet Gabrielin and Draco there.

Harry glanced at the mirror of the bathroom, having changed into his slightly too big and much nicer than normal robes for his 'costume'. Historical pieces were coming back again, and Algernon, ever the well dressed elitist, was wearing a waistcoat and pants in the 19th century manner. Hermione was watching him. ("In case anything goes wrong, you never know with these expierimental potions.") Harry gave her a glance and uncorked the top of the green glass flask. The potion was still giving off steam. In one gulp, he downed it, steeling himself for the hot waxy flesh sensation of his body changing.

The first thing he saw was the mirror getting shorter- or him getting taller. His hair grew out, his chin became more angular, his hair got longer, oilier, his nose lengthened. His eyes changed shape, and color, not green anymore but the same blue as Gabrielin's, one of the only influences he could find of hers.

He turned to look at Hermione. She stepped back, her mouth a little open. "Har- Algernon."she corrected automatically. "You're gorgeous."

Harry looked in the mirror again. Whatever Hermione saw, he wasn't getting it. She shook her head, opening a black velvet bag with Gabrielin's crest embroidered on it, a snake wrapped around an arrow, it's head pointed at the moon.

She drew out a wand, ("Ebony, also elfhair, like Gabrielin's," Hermione commented, "See if it works." It did.) A heavy ring with a piece of onyx set between two rather hefty emeralds, and a pocketwatch, silver, with falling leaves etched into the cover. Hermione tucked the end of the fob chain in his buttonhole, slipping the watch in his vest pocket. She stood back to survey her work.

"You look very dashing." Hermione emphasized, while Harry mourned the fact that he was playing Snape's son in the mirror. He checked the watch, and in some corner of his brain, the twelve moving hands made sense to him, as thought the poly juice potion had given him Algernon's brains, too.

"We're going to be late if I don't hurry." Harry said, whipping on the invisibility cloak. Hermione nodded, pleased with herself at something.

Harry fairly ran down the empty corridors, invisible to everyone, except Mrs. Norris, whom he passed once. When he got to the more crowded part of the entrance hall, he slowed his pace, creeping around the fringes of the crowd to get to the open front doors. There was the carriage, drawn by- what type of horses were they? Draco was sure to ask- with the Malfoy family crest- the snake, rampant, much like the Slytherin one- sketched, unfaded, on the side.

The door opened of it's own accord, and Harry slipped inside, taking off the cloak and stashing it in a drawer under the seat. "Obfirmo." He whispered, tapping the wand to the drawer. It faintly glowed, and then remained still, locked tight. A new spell professor McGonagall had taught him to keep Draco out of his things.

From the other window, Harry could see Gabrielin, in a long green traveling cloak, Draco behind her, in his normal black. Behind them, a magical train of luggage- Draco's, for the large gothic D stenciled on their lids- followed. Harry stepped out of the carriage, smiling and going to greet his mother, whom he noted was now the slightest bit shorter than him.

"Mother!"

Gabrielin looked up, and she smiled. "Algernon!" she came up and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. He noticed out of the corner of his eye Draco was giving him a funny look and passing girls were whispering and giggling behind their hands. _Maybe Hermione was right_, Harry thought to himself. His professor- now his mother- smiled at him as if making a joke. "You've gotten taller."

Harry laughed.

* * *

You know when I'm going to be really evil? Next chapter, when Harry has a house party and Draco looks for a little action and everybody plays Liars and Fools. 


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